


Strings

by Kes



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fear, Gen, Mind Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3824563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kes/pseuds/Kes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanda does not pick through through the mind, construct the visions herself – a mind captured thus too easily finds its way out. Instead, she makes people construct their own nightmares.</p><p>[I was dissatisfied with the visions Age of Ultron gave us for each character, so I wrote my own.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strings

Wanda does not pick through through the mind, construct the visions herself – that is clumsy work, for amateurs. A mind captured thus will quickly spot the fault lines, the incongruities. No, she makes people construct their own nightmares, pulls tight the strings of horror that wind around the stomach and up into the waking brain and sees the dominoes fall. A delicate business, but in a world where all things lie open to her, a mass of fault lines and fixations and broadcasting, a very possible one.

-

Tony

The base has fallen, the last scrap of danger Hydra posed eradicated, and now he stands master of what was contained within. The Chitauri remnants breathe softly, quiescent for now, but he has all too little time before they awaken. They will. Tony forces himself to breathe deeply, tries to avert the panic attack. There is a way to save the world from them.

He grabs the staff, starts frantically tapping at the computers, but they are moving, moving, and the Chitauri war flier has Stark Industries on the side and he is running after them with no suit to help him. The portal opens upon the world while the computers behind him scream and he trips over half of Captain America’s shield. They’re all dead. All the weapons he designed for them are scattered across the bodies, broken, useless.

The only light comes from greenish fluorescent tubes. He bends to look at the corpses, friends old and new, and Yinsen’s eyes pop open from underneath Thor’s cloak. “You wasted your life, Stark. You could have saved us. You should have done it. You weren’t good enough.” His chest hurts and he reaches for the new skin in the centre of it, and his fingers come away black with blood from the wound.

Ahead of him, the great war flier propels itself gently towards the surface.

-

Natasha

The world insists on calling them heroes. She does not remember what she is being commended for, but there are flags from around the world everywhere and a voice speaking about what great service she has done the world. There are lights shining down on her and she is surrounded by people who are proud of her. One of them turns to her, smiling, and she knows her.

The woman who trained her, who ruled the programme with an iron fist. Horror strikes deep into Natasha’s heart and she looks down, blood on her hands, and they are all turning now and she knows them all. Her former handlers, the ones she met and the ones she didn’t, and the light keeps shining as they arm her as you would dress a doll.

“We need you to come in,” one of them whispers, and she nods. She is a killer. She is a killer to the bone. There is no hope, no escape, and all the world can see the blood she is splattered in. The lights keep shining. She kills the people who come for her, red white and blue, winged and glorious. She was never truly theirs. They were fools to trust her.

Natasha goes home, and it is cold.

-

Steve

It is eight o’clock at the Stork Club and the world is at peace. He knows this the way he knows that Peggy will be waiting for him, and so she is; older now, with streaks of grey in her dark hair, but as strong and beautiful as she had been when they first danced. No-one stares at him, and his shield is nowhere in sight; they all came home, and they all made a life. He goes over to the former Commandos’ table. It is empty.

He looks back for Peggy and he cannot find her, and everyone tells him that all is well, laughs tinkling. Out in the streets there are no people. In the houses they lie with a single bullet hole in their heads. Someone is screaming in the distance. How has he not noticed this? The world was at peace. The world is at peace.

The screams take him across town, under the throbbing of the helicarriers, and he cannot reach them, cannot bring them down, he is too late. He finds Bucky strapped to a chair, screaming for him, and the technicians arc lightning across his head and Steve hits an invisible wall. “Did you think you could save him?” Sam says, eyes blank and murderous, his wings made of steel. “You’re alone, Cap.”

Steve throws a car at the whole scene, and no-one even notices.

-

Thor

These halls are unfamiliar, but full of laughter. At one table Jane is talking to his mother, their heads bent over a device that puts out little spurts of blue energy. The peoples of several realms mingle here, talking loudly, sharing stories, feasting. Here, at last, there is harmony between the people of the Nine Realms and even beyond. He walks forward. No-one will meet his eyes. He can see nobody’s eyes.

Heimdall stands up when he sees him and Thor can see that his eyes are white. “This is where you led us,” he says, and grabs the front of his cape. “You, the mighty Thor, too strong to protect us, too weak to save us.” Thor is thrown back into the centre, and all is silence. People draw backwards. They are all glaring, and every eye is white.

Lightning begins to crackle across his body and he knows this place. Through the doors are halls and halls more, all filled with people, his ancestors, his friends, his enemies, and beyond lies a sea with a thousand tiny boats bringing ever more. Below him lies Yggdrasill, still bright and shining, and the lightning builds and builds until it must ground itself or kill him.

Thor blinks the dazzle from his eyes, and sees that Yggdrasill no longer shines.

-

Bruce

The banks of machines thrum with his satisfaction. He has been experimenting with new ways to make field medicine more effective, keeping the team updated as the progress ticks on. Now the final product of his work has been sent out. An alert buzzes; a call in from the team. He goes to the jet. As they fly, he flicks idly through their medical supplies to see how his work has been implemented. It’s not there.

When he asks about it, none of them have heard of it. “You’ve been wasting your time,” Natasha tells him. “All we need is the big guy.” And he is flying out of the jet, down into the screaming overload that is the other guy’s world, curling up inside his head and screaming, smashing, lashing out.

There are a line of graves, when Bruce comes back. A line of graves, all with screens on them showing the other guy ripping cities and cars and people to pieces. The team is patting him on the back, congratulating him. It’s the best performance yet, they say. They can’t hear what he’s saying to them, and they all have General Ross’ face, even Betty.

When he tries to run, he finds he wears green shackles.


End file.
